


Kneaded

by dailyroutineat221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor!John, M/M, Sick!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/pseuds/dailyroutineat221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John slowly ran his fingers down Sherlock’s spine, watching as Sherlock shuddered.</p><p>“You’re so hot,” John whispered, concern evident in his tone.</p><p>“Thank you,” Sherlock chuckled, clearly mocking John.</p><p>“What? No—I—Sherlock, I didn’t.”</p><p>“I know, John.”</p><p>“It’s the fever,” John mumbled in explanation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kneaded

“John,” Sherlock called with a gruff voice, “John, wake up. I need you.” 

Sherlock poked John’s belly through the sheets, but John barely moved. He was sleeping soundly in his bed.

“John, I’m sick. John, wake up,” Sherlock whinged, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What, Sherlock?” John grumbled, turning himself on the bed, giving Sherlock his back.

“John, I need a doctor,” He whinged again, getting up and pulling on John’s covers with a powerful tug. 

“Oh, for God’s sake, Sherlock. I’m sleeping!” John complained with sleepy bleary eyes.

“You were sleeping,” Sherlock stated, “And I’m sick, John.” 

“And what do you want me to do about it? I’m done warning you,” John said as he sat up on the mattress, rubbing his eyes.

“You are a Doctor!” Sherlock pouted, “The least you can do is diagnose me!”

“Can I have a cup of tea first?” John asked, looking tired.

“I can’t breathe,” Sherlock said, sitting on the edge of the bed again, “My eyes hurt.”

John stared at him. Sherlock’s curls were more disorganized than normal. He was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. John suddenly felt sorry for him.

“Ok. Come here,” John indicated a spot near him.

Sherlock approached John on the bed, sitting very close. John put his hand on his forehead to feel his temperature.

“Fever,” John stated, before proceeding to pull down the dark bags of flesh under Sherlock’s eyes. 

He put both hands on either side of Sherlock’s head, holding it still and John pressed his thumbs into Sherlock’s cheekbones.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” Sherlock whimpered as he closed his eyes.

“Are you feeling anything else?” John asked.

“My body,” Sherlock almost whispered.

“Oh, that’s a good thing,” John said with a small smile, “Your body is a good thing to feel.”

Sherlock opened his eyes, studying John, who immediately realized how he sounded. 

“No. I mean—I was just trying to be a smart ass,” John explained and Sherlock chuckled, “Well, I’d say sinusitis, but we can’t dismiss pneumonia yet,” Sherlock scowled as John continued, “I need to listen to your chest to be sure, but my stethoscope isn’t here.”

“You could put your ear on my chest. That would do,” Sherlock said lowly.

John felt a pang in his heart. He had never seen Sherlock so down. He looked awful, completely listless, his skin was little yellowish and his lips were dry.

“Ok, just lie down.”

Sherlock slipped himself under John’s sheets, resting his body on the mattress and his head on John’s pillow. John positioned himself and leaned over Sherlock’s upper body, supporting his balance with one of his hands on Sherlock’s hip bone. John pressed his ear against Sherlock’s chest, but he couldn’t hear anything through the flannel fabric of Sherlock’s pajamas.

“Sherlock, I’ll have to unbutton your shirt, alright?” John asked, but Sherlock didn’t respond.

John looked up and Sherlock was almost asleep, his difficult breathing resonating heavily. John started to unbutton his shirt and Sherlock jumped a little.

“I’m worried about you, Sherlock. I think I’d best take you to the hospital.”

“No. I’m just tired and my muscles are sore.”

“Yes, but if your chest is congested, we’re going.” 

John managed to unbutton and open Sherlock’s shirt. He leaned in and pressed his ear against the warm skin, resting one hand on the opposite side of Sherlock’s body. Sherlock was built up and his muscles were firm, but John found comfort on his soft warm skin. He felt Sherlock shuddering and caressed his thumb smoothly against his skin in an unconscious attempt to reassure him. 

“Take a deep breath,” John instructed.

Sherlock did as commanded and John felt his head move along with Sherlock’s ribs. He was focusing on the sounds coming from inside Sherlock’s chest, trying to identify any uncommon noise. Without the advantage of a stethoscope, John had to concentrate and press himself even more against Sherlock. Sherlock began to shift underneath him.

“Sherlock, cope.”

“I’m trying. Your eyelashes are tickling me.”

“Alright, I’m almost done. I’ll just confirm by testing for any trembling in your chest, okay?”

Sherlock nodded and John touched the skin between Sherlock’s nipples with his closed lips. He felt weird. It was almost as if he were kissing Sherlock’s body, except for the lack of lip movement. He rested his slightly parted lips against the warm and soft skin, trying to wipe out any inconvenient thoughts that popped into his head. John was having difficulty resisting the urge to kiss such inviting skin. Before John could do anything, he found himself not kissing, but mouthing Sherlock’s chest. He quickly stopped with the realization. 

Sherlock was dozing again, which John felt so glad for. He knew he would be mortified if Sherlock caught him doing something like that. Straightening himself back into a sitting position, John took Sherlock’s pulse. It was a little lower than normal. 

John concluded Sherlock had sinusitis. There wasn’t much he could do without antibiotics, so he decided to let him rest for the moment and get him to a hospital later. John let go of Sherlock’s wrist carefully so as to not to wake him and stood up, heading for the door.

“John, give me some painkillers,” Sherlock mumbled before John could leave.

“Oh, you’re awake,” John said unnecessarily as he turned to look at him.

“More or less.”

“I can’t give you a painkiller,” John said gently, “Your blood pressure is low already.”

“I don’t care. At least, if I faint I’m not going to feel so wrecked.”

“Nonsense,” John said quietly, feeling sorry for his friend, “Do you think you can lie on your stomach?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just do it,” John asked, almost regretting it already, “Before I change my mind.”

Sherlock shifted himself, groaning in discomfort. John helped to position his head on the pillow, so he wouldn’t suffocate and stripped him of the flannel pajama top.

“Alright, this may be a little… well, I’m going to sit on your arse,” John said quickly, practically vomiting his sentence.

“You’re giving me a massage?” Sherlock asked, a little startled.

“Is there a problem?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I’ve never got one.”

“Oh. It will help you relax and hopefully feel a little better,” John said, a little embarrassed, “Since I can’t get you any medication.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Just shut up and stay quiet.”

John positioned himself over Sherlock’s hips with one leg each side of his waist. He leaned forward and started to work his hands over Sherlock’s broad shoulders, trying to get his friend to relax. He applied measured pressure into the muscles, feeling the tension slipping away. A soft and strangled moan escaped Sherlock’s lips.

“Feels good?” John chuckled.

“Yes,” Sherlock answered lazily.

John slowly ran his fingers down Sherlock’s spine, watching as Sherlock shuddered.

“You’re so hot,” John whispered, concern evident in his tone.

“Thank you,” Sherlock chuckled, clearly mocking John.

“What? No—I—Sherlock, I didn’t.”

“I know, John.”

“It’s the fever,” John mumbled in explanation.

John kept working his fingers on Sherlock’s back muscles and he was less tense than when John first began. Sherlock quickly nodded off, but John didn’t stop. 

“John, why you are you such an idiot?” Sherlock asked suddenly.

“Well, I don’t know. Why am I an idiot?” John asked as he chuckled.

“Because you are, John,” Sherlock said, “You see it, but you don’t observe.”

“Right, thank you,” John growled at the non-answer as he cautiously massaged the small of Sherlock’s back.

Sherlock groaned both in pain and relief. John softened his grip.

“Why are you giving me a massage?” Sherlock asked hoarsely.

“To help you relax.”

“Is this what you do to your girlfriends?” Sherlock mocked.

“Help them to relax?” John furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “Yes, not quite like this, but yes.”

“hum…” Sherlock murmured.

John kept working his fingers on Sherlock’s bare back. He caught himself admiring the toned body of his friend more than once. It was so much easier to ignore when he wasn’t touching and teasing. Sherlock was emitting gruff noises of approval which John found curious. He never thought Sherlock was the touching type.

They were completely distracted in their activities and neither of them realized someone was coming upstairs.

“Wooho, boys! Sherlock, I brought you your soup, and I hope you’re really sick this time. If you fool me again to use it in a experiment I swear I-”

Mrs. Hudson stopped dead in her tracks at the view of John straddling Sherlock’s hips. John was completely mortified. He opened and closed his mouth several times trying to think of some way to explain his position but he could not come with anything, so he just waited for Mrs. Hudson’s reaction and it was nothing at all what he expected.

“John dear, I don’t think it’s the best time for that! I completely understand your needs and I respect your choices, but just look at the poor thing! He is barely awake.”

“NO! Oh, God, no… it’s not—I - don’t-, no!” John jumped off of Sherlock and straightened himself but she interrupted his stuttering.

“John, sweetie, there’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s perfectly normal and healthy,” Mrs. Hudson put the soup down at the bedside, “I should have knocked, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sherlock mumbled with his face half buried in John’s pillow. John could swear he heard the laughter in Sherlock’s voice, “You’re an angel, Mrs. Hudson, thank you.”

“Well, I should put this in the kitchen. It’s still hot, Sherlock. You must eat to regain your strength,” she smiled at him, before she realised what she’d said and blushed, “Oh, I should go now.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” John said.

“There’s no need. Stay and keep an eye on him,” she blinked at John.

John blushed as he watched her leave. There were a moment of silence. John just looked at Sherlock sprawled in his bed. He cleared his throat and spoke:

“Sherlock, is here anything else I can do for you?”

“It’s ok,” Sherlock barely responded.

“So, I’m…hm…I’m going to take a nap on the sofa,” John said uncertainly, “So, if you need something, just call me.”

He was ready to leave when Sherlock raised his head from the pillow.

“You can stay here.”

“No, I’m fine,” John said, “I’ve had my embarrassing moment of the day once today. I’m not willing to repeat it.” 

“You’re safe, John, I can barely move.” 

“Yet, you’re already half naked.”

“And you were caught straddling me a minute ago, how can it get any worse?”

“You have no idea,” John mumbled already lying down on his side of the bed.

He turned his back to Sherlock’s figure, making himself as comfortable as he could with the still-feverish body next to him. Several minutes of silence passed, and he was almost asleep when he heard Sherlock’s voice:

“Yes, I have.” 

John smiled at the playful tone in Sherlock’s voice and relaxed, falling asleep after just a couple of minutes.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked this story? Try my other works:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/works
> 
> Thank you.


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